All im gonna say is that youd understand the following
a lot better if you have read "The Road Less Traveled" by Scott Peck, and you
have a photographic memory.

I was sweeping floors; damn I was having fun. No one single human being should
be allowed to have that much fun. Somebody had to do it though, because the
floors were dirty, and floors don't clean themselves (we have to wait until the year 2031 for that). So, I consider myself
lucky. Every day I got to clean the floors, and the next day they would always
be dirty again. It was impossible to make progress, which is why it was so fun.
It feels good to go home every day knowing that what you had accomplished that
day would be there for you again tomorrow to accomplish again. On this
particular day, I remember, it was pretty hot. The machine shop, in which I was
cleaning floors, had no windows or air conditioning; just dirt. As I pushed my
broom around, I began to get thirsty. The more I thought about it, the drier my
throat got. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a full bottle of
Gatorade sitting on one of the machines. It was bright pink, which I thought
was odd. "Hmmmmm" I thought, "must be a new flavor...looks good". I didn't know
who's it was, and I didn't really care. I just knew I was thirsty, and
Gatorade, being a "thirst quencher", sounded pretty damn good. So I grabbed the
bottle, twisted the cap off, and took a big gulp of it. That is when I realized
that something was wrong. It wasn't some new flavor, it was industrial strength
floor cleaner. I spit it out as fast as I could, and ran over to the sink to
wash my mouth out with soap, since I had uttered a few bad words. After five
minutes of rinsing, I was left with a bad taste in my mouth, and a sore throat.
It seems that someone, who was mysteriously killed the next day, had used the
Gatorade bottle to hold some cleaning fluid, and failed to tell me. They also
failed to put a new label on the container, and, I doubt that they got a permit
from the city before they did the deed. So, I was stuck with a sore throat
because of some irresponsible schmuck.
The next day, I decided to confront the schmuck who put the cleaning fluid in
the Gatorade bottle. I said "Hey schmuck, I have a sore throat because I drank
cleaning fluid from your bottle."
"Yes I agree" he said "You probably do have a sore throat if you drank
cleaning fluid."
I was happy to see that he understood, so I asked "Well what do you suggest I
do about this sore throat."
"I told you, you do have a sore throat" was his reply.
I said "I know I have a sore throat, I want you to tell me what to do about it."
He replied "Maybe you haven't listened to me. I will say it one more time. I
agree that yes, YOU do have a sore throat."
Well, I had heard about enough of his wise ass remarks, so I took his shirt
sleeve and shoved it into the machine he was standing by. The machine caught
his sleeve and pulled him inside, killing him. He screamed, but I didn't really
care; he was a schmuck anyway. Three months later, I realized what he was
trying to say to me in our conversation. It was not his fault that I had drank
the cleaning fluid from his bottle without asking. He didn't hold me down and
pour the cleaning fluid down my mouth. He didn't even tell me it was okay to
drink from his bottle. Therefore, it was not his responsibility to find a cure
for a problem which I had created. I was trying to avoid the responsibility for
my actions, by blaming my problem on him. When I realized I was wrong, I
figured I should make amends with him. I drove out to the graveyard in which he
was buried, and found his gravestone. It was easy to find, because I had spray
painted the word schmuck over his real name, in bright orange, earlier that
month. Regretting what I had done, I wiped off the spray paint and the spit,
and replaced them with a few flowers. "Damn" I thought, "what a schmuck I
turned out to be."

The following is a parody of the 1960's movie "The Fly" (which is nothing like
the 1980's movie "The Fly") and dante's hell that i did for my gothic myths
writing class...if you don't know, the 1960's "The Fly" is about a scientist
who tries to teleport himself but a fly somehow gets in the teleporter so he
comes out half man and half fly...dante's hell is just a hell that has various
levels for various levels of sin...

For the last 6 years I have been pouring over mathematical formulas, trying to
make impossibilities into realities. I never once thought that my research
would lead to my own demise. Darkness is my only companion now. I mean besides
my dog, cat, and rabbit. Or wait, I killed the rabbit in my last experiment.
But who would have thought a rabbit would die from being chopped in half? I
thought they were like worms. Oh well, this is all irrelevant. I am all alone
now. I have stowed myself away from my family in my laboratory, for my mistakes
have rendered me too horrible for their eyes. What had I done to myself? How
could I be so careless?...What's that?...someone is knocking on the door.

"Honey, are you in there?" rings a familiar voice.

Oh no!, my wife! I cannot let her see me like this. I could not even bear to
look at myself in the mirror, there was no way that I could let her come in and
see me.

"Yes, what do you want?" I reluctantly replied back.

She sounded concerned, "You never came upstairs last night, is something wrong?"

"Well then why don't you come up and eat the breakfast I have prepared for you?"

"I'm not hungry...I have been eating some Snickers bars, they are packed with
peanuts and they have satisfied my hunger"

"Well won't you let me in?" she questioned.

"No, come on in...I mean stay out!...you mustn't come in!" but before I could
stop her she had already opened the door and began looking strangely at me.

"What are you doing!?" I shouted.

Then, the inevitable question, "Were you the last one to use the milk?, you
didn't screw the top back on...and why have you covered your head with a
towel?" she asked.

Her soft voice floated through the air and intoxicated my mind. How could I lie
to her? Her, the woman who had always been by my side and never faltered for
even a moment. Mother of my only son, Timmy, whom I would die for. She was
there for me when I super-glued my feet together. But who would have thought
that if you put super-glue on your feet and put them together that the glue
would dry and your feet would be stuck together? Oh well, that is all
irrelevant now. A sweet angel she was. I must tell her what happened, I could
never look into those eyes and betray her trust. Well, I did it that one time,
but that was for her own good. If she had known that I was stealing money from
her it would have crushed her.

I knew what I had to do. My voice was trembling slightly as I spoke to her,
"Darling...you must sit down...listen to what I tell you and do not ask me any
questions...do not doubt what I am saying...and please, no smoking."

"6 years ago I began research on the teleportation of molecular objects through
molecular decomposition and composition at different spatial locations. I have
had great success, but it has ended in travesty. My carelessness has led to a
fatal mistake. I began my experimentation gradually by teleporting small,
simple things such as silverware. Later I began teleporting small living
animals."

As I spoke of experimenting on small animals I could tell that I had enraged my
wife. She spoke angrily at me, "Silverware? So that's where all the knives in
my silverware set went? I inherited those from my mother! You told me the maid
had stolen them! This morning I had to slice the bread with a spoon!"

I interrupted her, "Please, let me go on...you may ask questions later...so, the
eventual goal of my experimentation was to be able to teleport a living human
being discretely across space. To fulfill my final experiment of teleporting a
human I tried to catch Timmy and shove him into the molecular decomposer but he
was too fast for me so I decided that I must do the experiment on myself. I got
myself all ready, wrote you a goodbye letter in case anything should go wrong,
and went on with the experiment. Unfortunately, I left a pen in my pocket when
I went into the decomposer and carried out the experiment. Somehow, when I
teleported myself, some of the molecules of the pen got mixed in with my own
molecules and the results have been most horrific...my head is now half human
and half pen. In order to reverse my mistake I need a pen with the exact same
molecular composition as the one I had in the original experiment."

"But honey, you are always losing your pen, maybe this is a blessing in
disguise", said my wife, hoping to comfort me. It was of no use though, I had
already tried writing with the pen which now stuck out from the top of my head, but
it looked worse than what I could do with my left hand. She continued on, "and
please, won't you pull the towel off your head?...I want to see you."

"OK...I mean no!...no!...I just came out of the shower, my hair is wet." Oh it
pained me to lie to her but had she gone mad? Did she really want to see the
horror that met my eyes shortly after that cursed experiment? I pleaded with
her, "Do not make me show you, I am too horrible for your eyes."

She looked deep into my covered eyes as if to console me as she spoke, "Yes, but
you've always been that way."

Her words did not relieve me, "Yes, I know I have become a beast, I am a danger
to all of mankind now. I think you know what we must do. We must destroy the
world so that I cannot hurt anyone."

Her voice now showed desperation, "But we could find another pen...I...I could
tell Timmy to find one. He has always been good at finding your Playboys,
surely he could find a pen!"

"I broke Timmy's legs when I was trying to get him into the molecular
decomposer, he is no good to us now."

I then ushered her into the molecular decomposer. I set up the equipment so that
this time everything outside the decomposer would get decomposed and everything
inside would remain untouched. But who would have thought that the entire
Earth, being outside the decomposer, would be decomposed and that we would be
left hurling through space? Oh well, that is all irrelevant now. As we were
flying through space my wife made a most disturbing discovery.

"Honey, this pen isn't part of your head, it's just stuck in your hair. I told
you that you should use conditioner!" she said.

"What? there is no way!...I will never use conditioner!" I scorned.

As the oxygen in the decomposer faded, so did we. Everything went slowly black.
Then I was tumbling, flying, falling, downwards, out of control, through dark
winding tunnels. Then it all seemed to stop and I was in a place. A most
horrible place. Before me was a dark forest which didn't seem to have any
abnormal characteristics but for some reason looked repulsive. Everything
around me made me sick to my stomach. In the distance I saw a leopard-like
creature moving towards me.

When it came near I questioned it, "What foul place is this?" I inquired.

It peered at me with its eyes, penetrating my body. It spoke slowly and coarsely
"A place this evil is such that comprehend you could not"

"What?" I asked. This creature spoke in words that were harder to understand
than Shakespeare.

"This...is the most evil of places...a man I once was...yes."

"Oh..." I replied, finally realizing where I had been sent, "But what I am doing
here then? I am a Christian, I am supposed to have been forgiven for all of my
sins...surely this must be a mistake."

"There are not mistakes anymore", it told me.

"Oh? I'm sure that my lawyer can find one. Who is in charge of this vile place?"

"That would be the dark one"

"Who?"

"The fallen angel"

"What?"

"Satan!"

"Oh...Yes...Yes of course." I pretended to understand what he was talking about.
I hate to ask someone to clarify something more than 2 times. I must find this
dark Satan so that I can explain to him what a good Christian I am and how I
should be with my one lord, Moses.

"You will see him soon", said the creature. I assume he meant Satan angel,
although by the way he looked at me with those eyes I would not be surprised if
he knew all that was going on inside my mind now.

Just then the dark sky became darker and a most horrendous creature
appeared. Oh no! had my wife too been sentenced to the pits of hell as I, for
all of eternity? This place must truly be evil then. But, as the figure became
more pronounced I soon realized that I was standing in front of someone who
could only be Satan himself. I stood there in horror just as Dr. Frankenstein
must have felt when he first beheld the monster he created.

His stature was intimidating but I questioned, "What place is it that you have
sent me that even a McDonalds does not reside here?"

"The McDonalds is on the lowest level of Hell" he said, "there we make the most
contemptible of humans, the traitors, eat McDonalds for every meal, every day,
for all of eternity...and all they get with their Happy Meals is a cheap
plastic toy." He grinned as he thought of his own evilness.

"A cheap plastic toy is all they put in Happy Meals on Earth too," I informed
him.

This puzzled him a bit, "Perhaps, but the ones I put in break the first time
they are played with."

"Yeah, it's the same on Earth," I said.

He cringed at hearing this. "Cursed!" he screamed, "Then I will give them
trading cards with small Japanese creatures with unpronounceable names on them!
Nothing could be more annoying and painful to the soul than that!"

This place of torture, pain, and misery interested me. I could not help but
inquire more about what went on in this scorned place so that I could write a
TV movie about it someday. So I asked, "What is on the level above the
McDonalds then?"

"Nike has bought the second level of hell and uses the former fraudulent thieves
which reside there as cheap labor to make their shoes."

"Jeez, you'd think they could sell their shoes for less than $100 then."

"$100? I'm only getting $5 a shoe...they said the average price of their shoes
was $25."

"Was that with or without tax?...was it one payment of $25 or 4 easy payments of
$25?...was the offer valid in all 50 states?...void after 90 days?"

"I...I didn't ask." Satan stammered.

"Hmmm...did you get the contract in writing?"

"Cursed!" he screamed again and it echoed all through the evil place, "Damn
these corporations! Damn them to Hell!"

It was doubtlessly obvious that Satan was a merciless torturer but he seemed to
have much to learn about dealing with large corporations. It began me thinking.
Was Satan really as horrible of a creature as people made him out to be? Or,
were Satan's behaviors a direct result of how he had been mistreated by humans?
Perhaps it was just his horrendous appearance that caused him to be ostracized
and now he was seeking his vengeance. I no longer felt the need to escape this
dreadful place. For I too had always felt exiled by humans for my differences.
I now had another mission, I would stay here with Satan and together we would
reek havoc upon the Earth. Or wait, I destroyed the Earth in my last
experiment. Cursed!

this is the first paper i wrote in college, the
assignment was something like "write about a challenge you have overcome"...i
really havent had any serious challenges in my life, sure i could make up some
shit about how my parents getting divorced was so hard on me or how i used left
handed scissors in 4th grade even tho i am right handed, but i was and am sick
of that bs...and i am really pissed off that i can never spell scissors right
without spellcheck...

before you read, you might want to try to recite the alphabet backwards as fast
as you can...hurry...

Life is full of challenges which we must overcome in order to succeed. Some of
us will be faced with large challenges while others of us will only be faced
with small challenges. I think it was Einstein who said "everything is
relative". His theory can be applied to challenges, as well as physics. For
example, lets say there are two kids. One was born with two arms while the
other was only born with one arm. For the kid with two arms, learning to catch
a football would be a relatively small challenge, but to the kid with one arm,
catching a football could be a relatively big challenge. Furthermore, for
someone who is paralyzed, drinking water from a glass may be an enormous
challenge, but for me, drinking water from a glass is no challenge at all. Most
people try to avoid challenges by taking the easiest way out even though they
would gain much more by taking challenges. The kid with one arm probably
wouldn't even try to play football because it would be too hard to succeed at
it. However, no challenge is too great to overcome, because then it wouldn't be
a challenge anymore, it would be impossible. I have personally been struggling
with the same challenge since I was nine; I can't say the alphabet backwards.
Although I sometimes feel that I will never overcome this challenge, I know
that I cannot quit; I have to keep trying.
It all started when I was nine. My step-dad told me and my older brother and
sister that he would give five dollars to anyone who could write the alphabet
backwards in less than twenty seconds. We all tried but none of us even came
close to finishing. I had done the worst. So, my step-dad turned to my brother
and sister and said "Now if I tell Lars something, and then he writes the
alphabet backwards in less than fifteen seconds, will you guys give him five
dollars?". They said "sure", because they knew I couldn't do it. I was sure I
couldnít do it either, until my step-dad told me his secret, then I was sure I
could. So I did do it, with no problem, and my brother accused me of cheating.
He didn't know how, he just knew I must have cheated in some way. So I had to
show him how I did it. Instead of starting at the end of the alphabet and
writing to the right, like this: ZYXWVU... I started at the beginning of the
alphabet and wrote to the left, like this: ...FEDCBA. The new method my
step-dad taught me allowed me to think of the alphabet the normal way while
writing it backwards. I was happy that I had five dollars in my pocket, but it
bothered me that I still couldn't verbally recite the alphabet backwards. Sure
I had learned a way to quickly write the alphabet backwards, but that won't
help me when I am without a pen or paper. So, I began attending seminars on the
alphabet, I read hundreds of books on how to recite the alphabet backwards, and
finally, I hired a personal tutor. Nothing seemed to work. I was beginning to
think I would never be able to say the alphabet backwards. I tried to tell
myself that I could still live a meaningful life, but in the back of my head I
was plagued by this question: I can count backwards, so why can't I say the
alphabet backwards?
I realize that I could get by without being able to recite the alphabet
backwards, probably. But, what if I become the guy in charge of rocket
blast-offs and they decide to replace the traditional countdown of
"5...4...3...2...1...Blast Off!" with "E...D...C...B...A...Blast Off!", what do
I do then? Write it down on my hand? I donít think that would be very
professional, and Iím offended that you would even suggest such a thing.
I'm kidding, of course. None of that actually happened. I had to make it up
because I don't have any real challenges in my life right now and I haven't
really ever had any abnormal challenges. I wish I had. Life is pretty boring
here on Easy Street. The biggest challenge in front of me now is just to figure
out what I want to do with my life. I am planning on going to the University of
Michigan, so I can become an Engineer, but I don't know if that's really what I
want to do. The only way I can find out is just by doing what I'm doing, and
eventually I will have enough information to figure out which direction I need
to go to find happiness.

When I was younger my grandma and grandpa lived on a
lake, and in the summer, I often went over to their house to go fishing. I
liked fishing in the shallow water best, where the smaller fish lived, mostly
because they were easier to catch. I didn't really like fish though, with their
slimy, scaly skin, and that smell, well, I just didn't like them. I didn't like
ripping the worms apart to put them on the hook either, but I did like to catch
the fish, you know, for the challenge. Taking the fish off the hook after I
caught them, was another story, "it doesn't hurt them"- well I don't know about
that. Anyway, I didn't like taking the fish off the hook, so I would always ask
my grandpa to do it. However, I didn't want to keep bothering my grandpa, just
to take the fish of the hook, so I thought of different ways to catch the fish,
which didn't use hooks.

My first unoriginal Idea: Instead of worms I would use crackers, and instead of
a pole I would use a net. How unsportsmanlike. It turned out to be a great way
to catch fish but that's not really what I was after, I hate fish, I wanted a
challenge. Scrap that idea. Next one. This time I would use a bucket instead of
a net, but still use the crackers as bait. I submerged the bucket in the water
sideways, so it was about halfway full with water, and I threw some crackers in
there. The fish were cautious at first, but once I gained their trust they swam
into the bucket freely. When I felt the time was right I yanked the bucket out
of the water, with a few unsuspecting fish inside it, and some half-eaten
crackers. Well this was a little more challenging than the previous method, but
it still wasn't what I was looking for. My next move: get rid of the bucket and
try to catch the fish with only the bait and my hands. They were a little too
quick for that, so, I had to make a trap. I could not beat them physically but
I could beat them mentally. I built three walls out of sand and I used the
shore as the fourth barrier, making a reservoir with only one small waterway
leading inside. I put some bait in the little pool and sat still, until some
fish swam in. I had run out of crackers so I was using bread, which doesn't
really matter. So the fish swam in, and as they did I closed the passage behind
them, by pushing up another wall of sand. Then they were stuck, no way out, in
a little pool within the lake, separated only by walls of sand. Yet, I still
hadn't caught them, they were slimy, scaly and quicker than me. I finally
decided to just push the sand walls inward, until the fish was on the beach and
gasping for air. It worked, but the fish ended up buried under exactly 6.4587
inches of sand, so I dug him/her out and threw him/her into the bucket with the
other fish, and called it quits. Now I was satisfied, and tired, and out of
bait. So I picked the bucket up and threw the fishes, or is it just fish,
anyway, I threw them as far as I could, and watched them disappear into the
clear, glassy water. I hate fish, and fishes.

There was a problem. People were unhappy. What could
they do? They had just lost a war and their economy was virtually dead. A man
says he has the answer to their question; a cure for their pain. They listen;
they have to. There is no escaping it; it is everywhere. Brainwash: It's not
your fault, blame the Jews, they are taking your jobs, and eating your food.
They are the reason we are in a depression. We can rule Europe, but not with
them, they are bringing us down. They are evil. We are superior to all others,
we are Germans.

This is what Hitler preached to the Germans during the depression after World
War I, and eventually the Germans believed it. Hitler gave the Germans hope and
someone to blame for their problems. He made them hate. Hate is an easy hole to
fall into, but once your in, it's harder than hell to get out. To get out, you
have to realize that you were wrong and then take responsibility for your
actions. But how could Millions of people be wrong?
The fact of the matter is that no one wanted to be wrong, and no one wanted to
take responsibility for their actions. It was easier to hate, and blame someone
else. That is how it began. What may have started as a small snowball upon a
hill, had begun to roll down the slope, gaining in both speed and magnitude,
and ultimately becoming what is known as the Holocaust. It would take a war to
stop this snowball.

In case you don't know what the Holocaust is, I will summarize it. A man named
Adolf Hitler believed that all Jews and Communists were evil and he blamed all
of Germany's problems on them. He preached his ideas to the people of Germany
and they supported him. The main reason Hitler found support is because Germany
was suffering from a depression and the people were desperate. Once he had
rallied enough support, Hitler assembled an army and began taking control of
weaker countries. At the same time, he also set up death camps to kill all Jews
and Communists who got in his way. The Jews were forced from their homes and
families, and sent to death camps where most of them would die in crematories
or gas chambers. At some point, the Nazis either realized they were wrong, got
killed, or just gave up, and the Holocaust ended. Now it is in the past, and it
can not be reversed or erased. Like any mistake, though, you can learn
something from it, and it should not be forgotten. If you forget it, it could
happen again. If you can understand how the Holocaust developed you can take
precautions to help prevent it from occuring again. After the second World War
was over, the United States made sure to help Germany get back on its feet
again, so that another dictator like Hitler couldn't come to power, and repeat
the entire cycle.

The central idea or cause behind the Holocaust can be applied to many other,
perhaps even common, situations. People who are desperate don't always make
sane decisions. They are usually thinking about how it could help them, and not
how it could hurt others. This was definitely true with the Germans, who were
willing to kill people of a certain religion, because they thought it would
help them rise out of a depression. In reality, though, all it did was set the
stage for another depression which could have been worse than the one which
followed World War I. But, we learned from our mistake, and we didn't let it
happen again. The cycle is broken, lets keep it that way.

this is from the 11th grade, we were supposed to write
a paper about who we would like to spend a day with if we could spend it with
anyone living, dead, fact or fiction...

Who would i like to spend a day with? This is only a hypothetical question so I
can only give a hypothetical answer...if I were really given this opportunity I
donít know who I would choose. Maybe I would like to spend a day with Charles
Manson so I could see how screwed up he is...Or maybe the president, so I could
tell him how screwed up the government is...Or maybe I would like to spend a
day with a homeless person to see how easy I have it...Perhaps Iíd choose to
spend a day with a Native American so he could tell me how his land got taken
away from him and his people...Maybe a movie star so I could tell them they
have too much money...Or just maybe, Iíd like to spend a day with a slave so I
could see how unfair life can be...Maybe I would just spend a day with myself
so I donít have to worry about all this shit...Or maybe Iíd randomly select a
name from theÖnevermind, stupid idea... Maybe Iíd spend a day with a person who
is about to die so I could get depressed...Or maybe Iíd spend it with a factory
worker so I could see what kind of job I donít want...Maybe Iíd spend a day
with the pope so I could feel uncomfortable...i cut off the ending cos it was
stupid...doesnt leave much left, it looked longer when it was hand
written...maybe ill come back and polish up someday...

An artist splatters a bunch of paint on a piece of
canvas and says it represents his life. And the art critics say to him "Ah Yes!
this is wonderful! I see, yes I see! this blue here must represent sadness,
from when your father died, Ah and this bright red must represent your
happiness from when your first son was born, oh and this dark red over here
must represent all the bloodshed you saw in Vietnam, Yes! and this black must
represent all of the bad and evil things you have done, and this empty canvas
over here must represent god, you didn't know what to paint so you left it
blan-no wait, I know! this empty canvas represents the part of your life which
you haven't lived yet, yes! this is truly the most magnificent work of art you
have done so far". And the artist just nods his head. His painting becomes
famous and students study it in art school. And they say "It just looks like
splattered paint", but the teacher says "No, can't you see, this is life". Ten
years later maybe the artist comes back and says that it actually is just
splattered paint, and it has no meaning. Nobody believes him though, they say
he's finally gone insane. Or maybe the artist hands them an empty canvas and
says "This better represents my life, because it doesn't matter what I paint,
you will always see what you want to see". Or, possibly, the artist decides
that yeah, that splattered paint kinda does represent his life.

my self would be at that table over there just sitting and minding my own
business...my self would never be over here...im not me right now...im someone
else...

who are you?

who do you want me to be?

whoever you are...

that is who i am

who?

what?

...i noticed you

you saw me?

yeah...i saw you...you were...you...you were you...hi you...who are you?...i
mean when you were over there, who were you?...

over there i was no one...thats why i came over here...hi...

hi...

im noticing you...i saw you...im seeing you....youre you...

yeah...im me...you dont have to be anyone...or say anything...you can just
sit...we can just sit...i was just sitting...

i was just sitting...that was me...until i noticed you...

then you changed...

yeah...i changed...i like this...what is this?...what am i doing?...

being indirect...indecisive...indifferent...something like that...

does that work?

not usually...

what about direct?

not usually...

so what are you saying, its not what you do its how you do it?...or nothing
works?...at least when youre indirect you are less likely to force someone into
something they dont want to do...

how is this going to end?

i havent even thought about the ending yet...

then why did you come over here?...you must have had an ending in mind?

youre asking me to be direct?

i was just asking a question...

are you hungry?

no

need to go to the grocery store for anything?

no

you have milk?

yeah...

what are you doing later?

nothing...

would you like to do something?

i might...

i actually like your plans...i would like to do nothing...i mean i cant think of
anything to do...what is there to do?

theres always stuff to do..

you sound like my mom when i was a kid and id be like "theres nothing to eat in
this house" and she'd be like "nonsense, theres tons of stuff to eat...theres
lettuce...cheese...bread...water..."...

did she have milk?

usually...

you could have drank milk...

yeah, but what if i just got done drinking a glass of milk?...you think i should
just drink another?...maybe i wanted something different...

you dont like milk?

i like milk...

but you only drink one glass?

usually, unless im eating something...i dont just drink the whole carton at
once...there are other people who rely on that milk you know...

sometimes you have to put your own needs in front of others...

i have thought about you so much...

youve never even met me

youre not even you yet, youre who i think you are...i have always known
you...you have always been right here, in my mind...ive just been waiting for
the meeting

im the one?...we are going to leave here and live happily ever after?...

i never think that far ahead...i dont even want to leave...why does there have
to be an ending?...right now is good...if i get to know you any better i may
find something i dont like...now you are just blank...i fill you in with
whatever i want...